


Symposium

by rikke_leonhart



Series: Episode Reaction Fics [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 18:25:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9337502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rikke_leonhart/pseuds/rikke_leonhart
Summary: Post-S02E01: Alec might be good at apologies after all, but he doesn't know how to ask for simple things. Set directly after Alec's apology.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I need an intervention??? And Malec gives me feels. I have just about zero knowledge of the books, and let me tell you, anytime neither half of Malec is on screen, my attention span is absolutely shot. Oops. Inaccuracies guaranteed.

*  
It’s weird, Magnus not being talkative.  
  
Alec knows he’s been forgiven, because Magnus had said so and had kissed his hand when they went inside, but whatever Alec had expected after that, this wasn’t it.  
  
This, being Alec sitting on the couch watching Magnus, who was working.  
  
Magnus glances up – of course. He raises an eyebrow. A question.  
  
“Nothing,” Alec says even if, strictly speaking, it’s not entirely true. He stretches out on the couch, lying down and losing sight of Magnus in the process and he regrets it a little bit. If he closes his eyes, he thinks he might still feel it; the weight of Magnus’ hand in his own, the slide down over Magnus’ arm, soft skin over strong muscles. It’d felt _real_.  
  
In a world where he mostly feels that he’s drifting, it’d felt wonderful. How does one ask for a grounding touch?  
  
Magnus is always more than what he knows what to do with. Lord above, he could still remember the hard-set way of Magnus’ chin when he’d bit out that he didn’t want anything from Alec. The realization that he held the power to hurt Magnus was heavy and continued to be, and he doesn’t know why he is so surprised. Magnus has never pretended to be anything less than affected by Alec; his actions, his words and his thoughts.  
  
This kind of power is terrifying.  
  
A clink beside him makes him realize that he’d closed his eyes.  
  
“Tea,” Magnus offers with a wry grin when Alec looks.  
  
“Tea?”  
  
“Not my pick of poison, I’ll admit,” Magnus says, still grinning. “Ragnor called it Camille Tea and he held it together around her for centuries, so I figure there’s a certain calming quality to it. He occasionally had terrific ideas,” Magnus sits down on the table and holds out the cup of tea. It’s not usually so obvious, but there’s a subtle sadness to so much of what Magnus says, and Alec is reminded again that just recently, Magnus lost a friend.  
  
Alec sits up and takes the tea.  
  
Most of the time Magnus is larger than life and confident in himself, but then there are moments where Alec feels like Magnus is letting himself be small, not entirely metaphorically speaking as Alec towers several inches over him.  
  
Right now, Magnus looks like he’s somewhere in between his usual defenses and the kind forgiveness he’d given earlier. Ready to pull back if Alec lashes out – it’s not fair.  
  
“Drink, my dear,” Magnus says.  
  
Staying still was difficult. He should be out looking for Jace – and Magnus won’t help him. Not in the way Alec wants, at least. That doesn’t mean that Magnus won’t help at all.  
  
Magnus reaches out. His hands fold around both of Alec’s where he’s holding the mug, and Alec couldn’t have stopped the sigh from leaving his mouth if he had tried. If he looks up at Magnus now, surely Magnus would look triumphant.  
  
Magnus doesn’t. He looks soft in entirely different ways than Alec is used to seeing. Magnus, for all his magic and crackling confidence, has always looked directly at Alec as if he _saw_ him. Alec is not used to being seen.  
  
“Dearest,” Magnus mutters, “drink.”  
  
The tea is good. It’s just shy of scalding, it’s rich and perfumed. His hands feel bereft where Magnus had touched him. “Thanks,” he says. “Did he give it to you?”  
  
“He offered sometimes,” Magnus says. “I never really took to it, I like my drinks a little stronger and he knew it.”  
  
“No, I meant –”  
  
“I know what you meant. You have permission to call me sentimental.”  
  
Alec imagines Magnus going through Ragnor’s things, choosing which to keep and which to discard, and he realizes that he doesn’t know what Magnus did. How he mourned.  
  
“Death makes a true companion to us all,” Magnus says. It’s odd seeing him in such subdued clothing. Even if he wears black, there’s always a dash of colour somewhere, but he’s just in the black track pants and the grey hoodie, and Alec – Alec doesn’t know how to ask for the simplest things.  
  
“How – ?”  
  
“Jace is not dead,” Magnus says bluntly. “You’d know. And we’d know. We _will_ find him, Alexander. I promise you this. You do not need to mourn him yet.”  
  
Alec still feels lost. When the ground beneath him is already shaken and unsteady without Jace as a tether, it’s disconcerting that Magnus can unsettle him so easily, but then remembers the terse confession from earlier: this is new to Magnus, too. _He_ is new to Magnus. Magnus had said Alec had unlocked something in him, and Alec hadn’t thought much of the choice of words because he’d been busy being in denial of the reminder of things he’d rather not be entirely honest about, but… it occurs to him now that maybe he makes Magnus think and remember things he’d rather not think about either.  
  
The difference is, apparently, how they choose to deal with that.  
  
Alec, as it turns out, turns into a gigantic asshole.  
  
Magnus? Alec isn’t sure yet. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“All is forgiven,” Magnus says freely. “You know this.”  
  
Almost a century, Alec remembers with sudden clarity. That’s how long Magnus had chosen to remain free of attachments, of emotions that could cripple him and now he’s chosen to give this power to Alec. Alec isn’t sure if that’s wise or incredibly stupid, but he’s honored nonetheless, as overwhelming as it is. Magnus sits opposite of him, stripped of his usual flashy armour and has chosen to be vulnerable.  
  
That’s a different kind of bravery than the runes Alec bears. He carefully sets the tea down next to Magnus and reaches for his hands. Maybe he doesn’t have to ask for a grounding touch, maybe it’s not so much asking when it’s already freely offered.  
  
“Oh,” Magnus says on an exhale but comes willingly when Alec pulls. “Why didn’t you say so?”  
  
Alec doesn’t say anything but hooks his chin over Magnus’ shoulder, holds him across his curiously broad shoulder blades, and when he feels Magnus’ hands settle firmly on his back, _something_ in him uncoils. Magnus is grieving, in his own way and in his own pace, and Alec thinks he’ll do well to remember that.  
  
He’d still listened when Alec had shown up.  
  
Alec could still just walk straight into the apartment.  
  
Maybe Magnus still wants things from him.  
  
“Thank you,” he says instead of apologizing again. He can feel Magnus’ cheek against the side of his head – he’s smiling, even just a little bit.  
  
“Let me tell you, this is a not a hardship,” Magnus breathes. “But I’ll still savor your gratitude more than your apologies.” One of his hands move over Alec’s back in a broad sweep and it feels a little bit steadying. “Breathe, Alexander.”  
  
He inhales. And exhales. When his eyes are closed, he sees Jace, but he doesn’t feel the panicked rush for any action to be taken. There’s something to be said for regrouping.  
  
“You’ll do crazy things to find him, I just know it,” Magnus says, resigned. “Just let me be on hand, at least?”  
  
He can’t promise that, and Magnus knows it. He pulls back but doesn’t let go of Alec’s hands as he checks his eyes. “Feeling a little bit better? Calmer?”  
  
“Yeah,” Alec breathes. “Yeah.”  
  
The corner of Magnus’ mouth tips into a smile. “I told you Camille Tea was the way to go.”  
  
That’s not it, and if he’d had any free hands, he’d probably have pushed at Magnus’ shoulder, but that would mean letting go, and he doesn’t want to. Maybe he’s touch-starved.  
  
Or maybe he just wants Magnus.  
  
Magnus, for reasons Alec doesn’t pretend to understand, seems to be on board with that plan.  
  
“Have you slept recently?”  
  
It’s an invitation, this he knows. He’s not _that_ socially inept. “Will you stay?”  
  
“I live here,” Magnus says wryly.  
  
“That’s not what I meant.”  
  
The smile on Magnus’ face slips into something more genuine, less flashy, but _more_. “If you want me to. I do have some work to do, I wasn’t just willfully ignoring you. You can take my bed or the couch, whatever you want. I’ll be close by.”  
  
Alec stays on the couch and listens to the rustling of papers as Magnus reads. He must have drifted off eventually, because he wakes briefly to a gentle touch on his neck and he reaches blindly out, hands catching onto a warm appendage that slips slightly and then curls into his fingers.  
  
“Sleep, my dear,” Magnus murmurs, “you’re safe. Rest.”  
  
Alec, feeling safe and calm, surrenders to sleep.  
  
*


End file.
